


Rising (To The Occasion)

by Mad_Maudlin



Series: Major Zelenka 'verse [1]
Category: SGA - Fandom
Genre: AU, Episode Re-Write, Gen, Mensaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Radek Zelenka first met Rod McKay at a fancy reception in Moscow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rising (To The Occasion)

Radek Zelenka first met Rod McKay at a fancy reception in Moscow. He wasn't entirely certain who was being received or whyit certainly wasn't the Czechs, though they'd been generously invited. It seemed as though a lot of people had been generously invited, if only to enjoy liquor and canapés at the expense of the Russian Federation. His own people were either drinking too heavily or schmoozing too blatantly for Radek's tastes, and so he stood by himself sipping dry wine until suddenly, he was no longer alone.

"Z'draswhitcha," someone said haltingly, and Radek turned to find a stocky, smiling man at his side. An unremarkable man, dressed perhaps a bit too casually for the occasion, but otherwise unmemborable except for that generous grin. "Crasivy veetchera, da?"

"Very lovely," Radek said. "And I do speak English."

"Oh, thank God," the other man said. "I've been stumbling by on my Russian in Ten Minutes A Day since I got here. I thought everybody would just understand Englishchalk one up for North American hubris, eh?"

Radek found himself smiling in spite of himself. "You are American, then?"

"Canadian, actuallyI'm just doing some consulting here." The man with the infectious smile juggled his wineglass in order to extend a hand. "Dr. Rodney McKay."

Radek shook. "Major Radek Zelenka. Pleased to meet you, Dr. McKay."

"A pleasure to meet you, Major. Please, call me Rodeverybody does."

Radek didn't doubt that. McKay practically oozed amiability from every pore on his expressive face. He slouched against the wall as if he owned the place, despite his self-professed difficulties with the language, and he so subtly invaded Radek's personal space that he almost started to realize they were leaning together like conspirators. He straightened his posture and smoothed his uniform jacket. "What sort of consultation are you doing, then?"

"Deep space radio telemetry," Rod said with a straight face. "A coworker snagged an invitation to this...uh...whatever this is, and I managed to talk myself into coming along. It was either that or go totally stir crazy. What about yourself? What brings you to Moscow?"

"Consultation," Radek said, just to see Rod react with a bit of an eyebrow twist. "The Russian military want to sell my country some equipment to be refurbishedtanks, transports and suchand I am here to decide whether they are worth more than scrap."

"Oh, so you're an engineer, then?" Rod said brightly. "So am I, actuallyit's my second doctorate. Not that I get to use it that much, my work tends to be a bit more on the side of pure theory, but I like to think I'm properly versed in practical applications as well. At least, more so than some of the people I've worked with, but what can you do, you know?"

Radek sensed a story there, and got the idea that Rod would love an excuse to tell it, but was only waiting for a polite opening. Instead of giving him one, Radek said, "Sadly I have only the practice in my workthe Czech Republic has little use for theory."

"Shame," Rod agreed sincerely. "You know, and I don't mean this in a derogatory way, but it's just like the military to assume they can ignore the opinion of the scientific community right up until the moment they can't."

"My battalion lays mines and builds bridges," Radek said. "I must agree that quantum physics and string theory have very little to contribute to that."

"Oh, well, of course, that sort of thing," Rod said breezily. "Butwell, I suppose I've sort of given away that I'm a military contractor, and some of the projects I've worked on, it's been very hard to deal with the lack of respect, sometimes."

"In radio telemetry?" Radek asked mildly.

Rod gave him a toothy grin over the rim of his wineglass. "Exactly. So, are you interested in physics?"

Somehow Radek ended up explaining his life storyhow he gave up a seat at Charles University to support his family, how close he came to resigning after the revolution in order to pursue pure science, his current position in the 151st Engineering Battalion. Rod in turn dropped tantalizing hints about his worka base in distant Siberia, a previous job in the United States, high-ranking officers that Radek had never heard of, all glossed over with a knowing smirk and an increasingly tongue-in-cheek answer about "deep space radio telemetry."

"I kind of put my foot in it, though," Rod admitted, after what even Radek considered an impressive number of drinks. "Rubbed some people the wrong way, maybe came on too strongbut I'm hoping to make up for it here, maybe make some new contacts, that sort of thing. It's all about who you know, right?"

Radek nodded. "Sadly, that is very true."

Rod started to say something, but he was cut off by a tinny, electronic version of the Batman theme. He smiled sheepishly as he pulled out his cell phone, but that smile evaporated when he saw the number calling. "Excuse me, Major, I have to take this."

"Of course," Radek said, and then shamelessly eavesdropped when Rod only stepped a few feet away.

"McKay. Yes, General. I'm already there, actually. What's the problem? ...it's _what? _I'm sorry, I don't...all right, all right, does Colonel Chekhov know? Because we were kind of in the middle ofyes, General, I understand. Um, is Major Carter there? No reason...no, no, I'm sure we can put our, uh, personal differences aside. In fact, I was about to fire off a friendly little e-mail I've been composing foryes, General. Of course, General. I'm on my way."

"Trouble with radio telemetry?" Radek asked mildly as Rod returned.

"A crisis is just danger plus opportunity," Rod said briskly, smiling a little too widely. "It's been a wonderful evening, Major. I'll keep in touch, hmm?"

"Of course," Radek said, and when Rod shook his hand he got the feeling that he had just passed some sort of inspection.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

He didn't hear from McKay right afterwards, of coursethey hadn't exchanged any contact information, their careers were worlds apart, and whatever cryptic by-play there had been in their conversation, they really had nothing to do with one another. There were catastrophic floods in Moravia that year, and Radek spent the rest of the summer overseeing bridge construction and levee repairs with no time to think about the friendly Canadian he'd met by pure chance in Moscow, or what crises he was averting in the field of deep space radio telemetry.

Except, late in autumn, a package arrived at the battalion headquarters in Bechyně. It was addressed to "Maj. R. Zelasky" and the return address was an American air base, but inside Radek found a stack of scientific journals bristling with sticky notes, multicolored highlighting, and red ink. There was also a note:

_Major_

Thought you might enjoy a little theory to go along with your bridges and mines.

Yours,  
Rod McKay  
mrmckay@sgc.usaf.gov

Thus followed one of the most peculiar relationships Radek had ever been in. Rod sent him papers and journals at highly irregular intervals, almost every parcel bearing a different postmark; inside, Rod's own notes, theories and surprisingly acerbic commentary filled every page. More frequently but no less regularly, they emailed one anotherRadek usually asking questions which Rod answered verbosely but ultimately correctly, and at a considerable delay. Very rarely, Rod would ask the question, always wording it as a hypothetical thought problem; Radek would reply as well as he could, and Rod would thank him profusely in his next email without providing any further context whatsoever.

It didn't escape him that there were some themes to this correspondence, at least very general onesM theory, quantum computers, general relativity, superheavy elements. Radek also noticed a few recurring names in the articles, like William Lee, Samantha Carter, and John L. Sheppard. Rod never sent Radek his own work, but when Radek sought it out on his own, he found more of the samepublications few and far between on obscure astrophysics topics. He hadn't published anything at all since 2001.

Almost two years after that first strange meeting in Moscow, Radek's email inbox contained two pieces of spam from his sister, five administrative matters, a reminder from the base infirmary that he was due for a physical, and an email from Rod.

_To: zelenkar@army.cz  
From: mrmckay@sgc.usaf.mil  
Subject: Little thought experiment_

Morning major, got a question for you. How do you generate 10^33 joules without significant heat, radiation or magnetic field, no moving parts, and zero entropy? Oh, and whatever you build has to fit in a breadbox. Frankly, I'm stumped.

Yours,   
Rod

(Rod ended all his correspondence like that. Radek thought it was a peculiar affectation, because he very much doubted that Rod belonged to anyone.)

_To: mrmckay@sgc.usaf.mil  
From: zelenkar@army.cz  
Subject: Re: Little thought experiment_

Very funny, Dr. McKay. I think you have been spending too much time with your telescopes; they have addled your mind. What you say is as impossible as putting a galaxy in a specimen jar, and I hope for the sake of your employers that you are not wasting too much time on such "experiments"

R. Zelenka

It was three weeks before Radek received a reply to this message.

_To: zelenkar@army.cz  
From: mrmckay@sgc.usaf.mil  
Subject: Horatio_

There are more things in deep space radio telemetry (and earth) than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Radek had to double-check the reference (he'd never had the patience to read Shakespeare in English) but he ascribed it to Rod's strange and sometimes inexplicable sense of humor. The next package of journals was thin, coffee-stained, and postmarked from McMurdo Base, Antarctica. It also included a newspaper clipping about some American warships that had mysteriously sunken. Terrorists, the article concluded; Radek wondered why Rod even cared.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-

Radek had met Colonel Jaroš of the Fifteenth Engineering and Rescue Brigade only a handful of times, and almost always in the context of his duties. In fact, the last time he could remember being in the colonel's office alone was when Jaroš had asked him to go on that trip to Moscow almost two years previously. And he wasn't alone this time; the colonel sat behind his desk, but in front of it sat a dark-haired woman in a conservative suite. A man in an American military uniform stood at her shoulder, and next to him, talking about a mile a minute, was Rod.

"...incredibly impressed with him, you know, not just as an engineer but as a, an officer, he's really quite a credit to your countryand speak of the devil!" Rod beamed at Radek and held out his arms, almost as if inviting a hug; he was wearing a leather jacket over his suit today in spite of the heat. "Major Zelenka, glad you could make it."

Radek saluted Jaroš and nodded to Rod. "Dr. McKay. It is a pleasure to see you again."

The woman smiled; she wasn't conventionally pretty, but she had a strong face that Radek immediately admired. "Rod hasn't been able to stop talking about you for weeks, Major," she said, standing.

"Trust me, it's all been complimentary," Rod said with a little smile.

Radek looked helplessly at Jaroš, who stood. "Major Zelenka, you already know Dr. McKay. These are Dr. Elizabeth Weir, and Colonel Marshall Sumner of the United States Marine Corps," he explained in English. "They wished to discuss with you a matter of substantial importance and highest secrecy. Doctor, ColonelMajor Engineer Radek Zelenka."

Another exchange of handshakes and salutes. "This is a matter of national and international security, for your country and ours," Sumner said bluntly. "Everything we are about to tell you is highly classified, and absolutely none of it can be allowed to leave this room."

"Of course, sir," Radek said quickly, wondering aheadwas this mysterious telemetry project related to NATO somehow? Perhaps the United Nations?

Jaroš, surprisingly, left the room, and Rod hefted himself into the edge of the desk. "You might want to sit down for this, Major," he said with that infectious grin. "I know you've just been dying to know the dark secrets of deep space radio telemetry."

Sumner gave Rod a jaundiced look, and Radek was somewhat comforted to see that there was at least one person on Earth that Rod couldn't charm. Once Radek had sat, Weir took over explaining. "Major Zelenka, I am the leader of an international scientific expedition that's scheduled to leave in a matter of months. This is a civilian expedition, but Colonel Sumner here is in charge of our security on account of its extreme importance and potential for discovery. Unfortunately, some of our allies have expressed concerns about putting the expedition's entire military contingent under the sole control of Americans."

"We're only taking two platoons," Sumner said, "and that includes almost a dozen international troops. The Russians are pushing to get at least one non-American officer in the mix, though, whether we want him or not."

"And that's where you come in," Rod said. Radek realized that his smiling, at least this time, was entirely authentic; he was nearly squirming with excitement, in fact. "As I told Colonel Sumner and General O'Neill, you're an accomplished officer, you're intelligent, and your country's political position is perfectthe Russians can't complain about your appointment, but they also can't use you to meddle in the expedition's affairs for the sake of meddling. You're really the perfect candidate for this position."

Radek shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorryexpedition? What is this expedition?"

"We can't divulge all the details right now," Dr. Weir said, though it looked like Rod would like nothing better. "But it's a scientific, exploratory expedition to a very remote location where we will likely be out of contact with home for an extended period of time. I realize it's a bit of a catch-22 that we can't actually tell you what you're getting into until you agree to go," she added, "but trust me when I say that this is the most exciting scientific opportunity in human history."

"Also potentially one of the most challenging military missions in history," Sumner added. "And it's a responsibility I do not take lightly."

Dr. Weir didn't react, at least not visibly, and Rod's smile only slipped a bit, but Sumner's voice was brisk enough that Radek suspected this was an old argument. "Colonel, I have served my country without reproach for almost twenty years," he said. "I may not have a great deal of combat experience, but I am a soldier nonetheless, and I understand my duty."

"Yeah, Colonel Jaroš gave us a look at your record," Sumner said casually, picking up a folder from the desk near Rod's hand. "Top of your class at Antonin Zapotocky Military Academy in Brno," which he pronounced _Barn-O, _"advanced degrees in mechanical engineering and high-energy materials technology, supplementary officer training at the Moscow Military Academy of the General Staff..." His pale eyes flicked up from the paper. "What'd you do there?"

"Crossword puzzles, mainly," Radek said evenly.

Rod smothered a snicker. Sumner raised an eyebrow. "Crossword puzzles?"

"I was never very interested in the glorious international soviet."

That got a smile out of Rod and Weir and a small snort out of Sumner. "Says here you've served in both Kosovo and Afghanistan," the colonel continued. "Is that your only experience in live combat?"

"That is correct," Radek said. "In Kosovo I spent six months sweeping for mines, and in Afghanistan I liased with a civilian contractor conducting infrastructure repairs. My unit has also been part of many military exercises."

"Exercises don't always compare to the real thing," Sumner said ominously.

Rod shifted uneasily. "It's not like he's going to be defending the whole city one-handed, Colonel," he said. "He'll be there as more of an observer than anything. And we still have time to bring him up to speed..."

"With all due respect, McKay," Sumner said, "I don't intend for anyone under my command to sit and _observe_ anything, especially in a combat situation."

"Gentlemen," Weir said quietly, but both Rod and Sumner looked faintly mutinous; old arguments indeed. "May I remind you that Major Zelenka hasn't even agreed to join the expedition yet?"

"It might help if I had a bit more information on what exactly you were doing." Radek said.

Weir leaned forward, and her own face lit briefly with the same excitement that Rod showed. "As I said, this is a scientific and exploratory expedition under civilian controlmeaning my control. We will be taking around eighty scientists and fifty military and support personnel. Everyone joining the expedition must make a minimum commitment of one year, and there is a chance that we may face very dangerous circumstances, or even that we may not be able to return. I want to make that part very clear to you before we go any further."

"Dr. Weir, I am sorry, but" Radek licked his lips, "but where on Earth could your expedition possibly go and be unable to return?"

Weir looked reserved and enigmatic. Sumner's stony face didn't so much as twitch. Rod struggled not to grin any wider.

Radek _got it._ "Oh."

"More things in heaven and earth," Rod said, and offered Radek another manila folder.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

Radek spent some hectic and hazy weeks in meetings, learning what his role was meant to be; travelling dazed in Rod's wake through labs and research sites; drilling with Sumner's Marines and the promised international troops. He learned to dial a Stargate, fire an FN P-90, and cope with the more or less open hostility from the men he was supposed to be working with. The American troops hated him without complication; the international troops were mostly Russian and German, and they resented that Radek had been chosen instead of one of their countrymen. Rod tried to make up for it by engaging Radek in the affairs of the science team, which only seemed to confirm Radek's outsider status with the military contingent. Radek met Grodin, the quiet Briton, Miko the shy Japanese, Carson the chief surgeon, and John Sheppard, a gangly force of nature who made the rest of the science team cringe just by slouching into the room.

Rod had to throw a beanbag at Sheppard's head to even get his attention, so Radek's first impression of the man was a pair of black plastic glasses crowned with a profusion of dark hair, emerging from behind a fortress of computer monitors. "What do you want, McKay?" Sheppard asked when he spotted Rod. "I'm busy saving the galaxy."

"I just wanted to introduce you to Major Zelenka, our international military observer," Rod said. "Major, this is Dr. Sheppard, our resident mathematical prodigy."

"And everything else prodigy, too." Sheppard shifted his chair over, and Radek saw he was wearing a lab coat and a searing green T-shirt that read _Neutrons have Mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic!_ "Nice to meet you, Major. I'm statistically the smartest person on this expedition and I hope I never have to see you again." He smiled and slurped from an improbably large mug of coffee.

Radek raised his eyebrows at Rod, who responded with a sigh and an avuncular eye-roll. "A pleasure, Dr. Sheppard," Radek said. "What is it you will be doing on Atlantis?"

"Oh, you know, saving us all from McKay's stupid-ass theories, work on my future Nobel paper, revolutionizing physics," Sheppard said, folding his hands behind his head. "And possibly surfing."

"Surfing?"

"Dr. Jacksonyou'll meet him eventuallyhe has this theory," Rod explained quickly. "In legends, Atlantis was an island, and since he proposes that our legend arose from the Ancients' actual experience with the city...well, we'll find out when we get there, won't we?"

Radek looked again at Sheppard. "And you are being allowed to bring a surfboard?"

"Oh, hell no," Sheppard said. "I'm smuggling in the materials to fabricate my own on-site."

Rod sighed again. "Sheppard, you realize you're not supposed to say those things in front of me, right?"

"Ah, come on, McKay. We both know I'm indispensableAncient tech is hot for me _and_ I keep you from killing us all with basic errors in arithmetic." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I could make you a surfboard, too, if you wanted. Give you lessons."

For the first time in their acquaintance, Radek thought Rod was genuinely wrong-footed by someone else. "Ah...thanks, but no thanks," he said, with an indulgent smile that came a beat too late. "I have a feeling we're all going to be too busy for surfing."

Sheppard shrugged, and scratched at his ridiculously long sideburns. "Your loss," he said, and once again vanished behind a trio of computer screens.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

They got a week's leave before they departeda week in which to "wrap up their affairs," as Sumner put it, which Radek thought sounded awfully funeral. He went home anyway, not to Bechyně (he'd already been officially transferred away) but to Brno, where his sister kept several small demons masquerading as children. They managed to speak alone only when the demons were in bed.

"I wish I could tell you what I'm doing, Pavla," Radek said, smoking out the window. "It's amazing...you would be amazed."

"I wish you could tell me, too," she said. "Then I could watch the newspapers to see if you're in danger."

"I'll be with some of the most elite soldiers on Earth," Radek promised her. He had begun thinking that way over two months: _on Earth_ as distinct from _off _of it. "I'll be with the smartest man on Earth."

"Yes, your new friend Rod, who brought this upon you..."

Radek stubbed out his cigarette and closed the window. Perhaps his last cigarette everthe expedition was nonsmoking. "Pavla. You're angry about this."

She toyed with her coffee cup. "I just don't understand why you decided to suddenly become ambitious, Radek. Why not twenty years ago? You could be a colonel by now, fat and safe."

"Lieutenant colonel, maybe," he said. "And I don't think I want to be fat."

"I just thought you were too in love with your bridges and roads to see beyond your own nose," Pavla said. "They expected great things from you once, you know. They wouldn't have sent you to Moscow otherwise. But you never took what they offered."

"I supported you and Mother," Radek said. "That's the only reason I joined the army. Now, are you angry because I'm being ambitious or angry that I'm not ambitious enough?"

"I don't know!" she said, and went to stand in the kitchen. Radek followed her. "I don't know," she said again, softly. "If you had been ambitious then you could've done great things. Now you're giving up a comfortable position, a position you enjoy, for secret missions and American politics."

Radek took her hand. "Pavla, you must trust me. If you could know what I know...I can't walk away from it now. I must go."

"No," she said. "You can change your mind. That's why they sent you here, isn't it? In case you change your mind."

This was true. Like Gideon on the shores of the Jordan, Sumner had told the fearful that they still had a chance to turn back. They could serve on an Earth-basted Gate team until they were able to rotate back into their regular units; there would be no blemish on their records, no word breathed of cowardice. Radek was not certain how this applied to him, exactly, but other hand, it wasn't like he'd need to find out.

"Pavla, milacku, I do love you," he said. "But my mind is made up."

"Why?"

He found himself shrugging, shrugging _off_ her anxiety and insolent Marines and Rod's overwide smile. "I'd have to be crazy not to."

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

Radek, in the run-up to the expedition, had seen the Stargate, and even watched wormholes open and close while Rod gave breathless explanations that Radek only partly understood. It wasn't until the day the expedition departed that he actually stood at the foot of the ramp, surrounded by pallets and people, and faced the great metal ring. It looked much bigger on the floor, more ominous and more alien.

Sumner cut through the crowd to stand at his shoulder. "Let me make myself clear, Major," he said lowly. "You are not here by my choice."

"I understand that, sir," Radek said. It would've been difficult not to. "Nevertheless, I intend to do my duty."

"Just remember who's giving the orders around here," Sumner said.

"Is there much danger I will forget?"

Sumner's pale eyes fixed on him again. "You're McKay's man, Major, which makes you Weir's man by extension. Don't think I'm not aware of that."

"I thought I was my own man," Radek said, but Sumner was already moving away.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

Radek stepped through the gate, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin, thinking ridiculously melodramatic thoughts about the honor of the Czech Republic

Radek stepped through the gate, and felt a moment of electric tingling, of searing cold, of inexplicable motion

Radek stepped through the gate, and for a moment he _wasn't_

Radek stepped through the gate. Almost immediately, there was a problem.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

Beckett looked with a mixture of fascination and disgust at the severed arm that Radek produced from his backpack. "Well, the creatures are obviously humanoid, at least superficially," he muttered.

"Will you be able to learn anything from it?" Radek asked.

"Don't suppose it can hurt to try." Carson dug a plastic biohazard bag from a crate and slid the arm, still partially wrapped in a scorched Athosian shirt, inside it. "Aiden! Be a good lad, take this to the lab...thing...room."

A young black nurse emerged from some corner of their makeshift medical suite. "The one with the cool bio-scanners?"

"No, the one with the scalpels and the magnifying glass," Beckett said. "You remember what happened the last time I started meddlin' with the Ancient technology?"

"Hey, the general survived," Aiden said. "And come on, it likes you, it lights up for you."

"It lights up for anyone with the gene, lad, now go. I need to finish treating Major Zelenka's injuries."

Radek wiped at the crust of dried blood on his forehead and sighed. "Can it not wait? I must speak to Dr. Weir as soon as possible."

"That'll be a nasty scar if it doesn't get stitched up properly, Major."

He found he didn't particularly care; in some way he almost deserved it, after what he did and failed to do on Athos. He had told Sumner in Bechyně that he was no stranger to combat, yet when the Wraith had arrived, what good had he been? If he had been a proper infantry officer instead of a jumped-up engineer, would his people still have been captured? "I will be back later to have it tended," Radek promised, trying to sound sincere, and Beckett let him jog up the stairs to the control room.

He found himself stepping into an argument on the balcony overlooking the gate. Dr. Weir looked like she was trying to retreat into the glass-walled room on that side of the chamber, but Rod was blocking her pathhe did enjoy playing to an audience, it seemed. "because it's the right thing to do!" he said, pounding a fist into his palm. "If we're not going to do this, then we might as well turn and run right now, because these Wraith things are going to find us. Lieutenant, back me up on this one."

Lieutenant Bates seemed uncomfortable stepping in, but he did say, "Ma'am, he's rightwe can't leave our people in enemy hands. They're too valuable a source of intelligence."

"No one returns after being taken by the Wraith," Tagan insisted. He pushed past Bates to get into the circle and folded his arms, eyes dark and staring. "Listen to me, because my people know this wellbetter than you, who have blundered like puppies into the very halls of the Ancestors. The Wraith are more powerful than you can imagine, they have culled our people since the beginning of our history, and never in all that time has anyone escaped from them except in fantasies and tales told to children. You did not heed our warnings the first time and brought this grief upon my people"

"Or maybe one of your people brought this on us both," Bates snapped.

"Let's not make accusations, Lieutenant," Rod said quickly, but Weir made a face like she'd been thinking the same thing. Radek remembered the humorless little man who'd been at Tagan's side during their talks, the one who'd first warned them not to go into the ruins, and admitted to himself the accusation wasn't entirely groundless.

Tagan scowled, and though he was not a tall man he seemed to swell with his anger. "How dare you accuse my people of such betrayal?" he demanded. "Have not every one of us lost a loved one to the Wraith? My own little daughter"

"Nobody is accusing you of anything, Tagan," Weir said, "but we have to consider that one of your people might have betrayed all of us."

"It was your people who entered the old city in spite of our warnings!" Tagan roared.

"And we're very sorry they did that," Rod said, still trying to smile, "but right now I think it's more constructive to talk about how we're going to rescue our people_all_ of themthan whose fault it was that they got captured."

"I am not authorizing a rescue mission, Rod," Weir said.

Rod's mouth slanted downwards, not really a frown, and he looked at Bates with his eyebrows knit. "With all due respect, Elizabeth, I really think that falls under the judgement of the military commander of the expedition, and with Colonel Sumner missing in action..."

Bates looked at Rod, then Weir, and started to open his mouth. Radek took a deep breath. "With Colonel Sumner missing," he said, stepping forward, "I am the ranking military officer on this base."

Four pairs of eyes locked on him, looks of surprise and suspicion and anger. "Well, then," Rod said, smiling slightly, "in your military opinion, Major, how do we go about a rescue mission?"

Radek swallowed, and met the eyes of Bates and Weir rather than Rod. "While I agree that rescuing the Colonel and the others should be of the highest priority," he said slowly, getting a grin from Rod and a raised eyebrow from Bates, "I must agree with Dr. Weir that such a mission would currently be ill-advised."

Rod's face fell in shock, and he gasped. "But we can't just leave them there!"

"And we cannot send more people to be captured or die," Radek said. Rod started to retort, but Radek cut him off. "The Wraith have every tactical advantage over us, Dr. McKay, and we have no intelligence on themnothing but Mr. Emmagen's reports, which, you must admit, are not terribly optimistic. I cannot order such a mission without knowing there is a reasonable chance of success."

"Thank you, Major," Dr. Weir said, sounding not exactly satisfied, but perhaps relieved. "I'm sorry, Rod, but"

"Nonono," Rod said, shaking a finger at some invisible point on the wall, "I thinknever mind. Lieutenant, can I borrow you for a moment? Elizabeth, with your leave?"

She nodded, and Rod hared off, Bates on his heels; the last thing Radek heard was Rod yelling into his radio for Sheppard. Elizabeth caught his eyes for a moment, but Radek, uncertain, looked away.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

When the little spaceship rippled into visibility, Radek automatically leapt backwards, blurting _"Bozhe muj!"_

Somewhere in the room, a speaker clicked to life. "Hi, Major," Sheppard said, smirking from the seat on the right sidewell, Radek's right. "Isn't this the coolest thing ever?"

"Walker and Molina found them during the first wave of exploration," Rod said, practically bouncing with excitement. Bates was not bouncing, but Radek suspected that was because Marine Corps officers were not permitted to bounce. "How's that for a tactical advantage?"

"Tacyou mean to rescue Colonel Sumner?" Radek asked, still baffled by the way the stubby craft hovered without support. "You propose to use these...these..."

"Gateships," Rod supplied. "That's what we're calling them."

Sheppard scowled, and the radio clicked on again. "I thought we were going with 'puddle jumper'?"

"Not now, Sheppard," Rod said. "Look, we figured out where the Wraith went when they left Athosit's a gate that's in orbit around a gas giant all the way across the galaxy. You can take a gateship there, use the cloaking device, and track down where Sumner and the others were taken."

Radek took a deep breath. "Rod. Dr. McKay. Do you understand what you're proposing? Do you understand the risks that we would be taking?"

"Of course, Major"

"I don't think you do!" Radek found his fists were clenched, and he forced himself to relax them. "Rod, even with thisthis cloak, we would still be flying into unknown territoryassuming we even can fly this ship"

"I can fly it," Sheppard chimed in.

"So can Lieutenant Miller," Rod said. "I know he's got the gene, and according to Bates here he's got flight experience."

"Or I can fly it," Sheppard said, "seeing as I already _am,_ and how I'm way more competent to do anything involving Ancient technology"

"Doctor Sheppard," Bates said, "we appreciate the offer, but you're not a soldier."

"I was in the Air Force!" Sheppard protested.

"For like a month," Rod said, "now, pleaseMajor, you said you wanted a reasonable chance of success. Doesn't this at least even the odds?"

"No!" Radek said. "Rod, I cannot order this mission, do you understand? We do not know what we are facing, the risks are too greatand I am not a battle commander! I am an engineer, who builds bridges and lays mines! Space ships, rescue missions, these are not what I am trained to do, and you know that!"

"Yes, I do!" Rod said, and suddenly he let go of his affable maskRadek saw the moment when it slipped, when Rod's hard-won smile faded completely into a downtwist of the mouth and a piercing stare. "I understand exactly what the situation is, Zelenka, but I'm starting to wonder if you do! See, maybe you didn't notice, but we're millions of miles from home, we're stranded in unknown territory, we have no way to defend ourselves, the gateroom is being overrun by pissed-off natives 'cause we got their planet blown up, and the super-powerful space cannibals who kicked the asses of Ancients have kidnapped your boss! Now, I'm not a military man, but if you're going to pull rank and claim command here, you might actually want to try _commanding_ instead of getting hung up on what we don't know and can't do."

"Sir," Bates said, stepped in front of McKay, "you'll have Earth's most elite fighting force on your side here. That's got to count for something, doesn't it?"

Radek couldn't stop his eyebrows from rising. "You truly believe the men would follow me, Lieutenant?"

"They'll follow where I lead them, sir," Bates said.

"Plus," Sheppard added, "you've got the whole _invisible spaceship_ thing here. Which I can totally fly. And should."

"Not the time, Sheppard," Rod muttered, singsong. His eyes never left Radek's.

_If you're going to claim command here, then command._

Radek swallowed, and reached for his radio. "Dr. Weir? Could you come upstairs, please? Dr. McKay and I have a proposal."

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

The interior of the Wraith compound was uncomfortably humid and dark, and every small noise made Radek's nerves light up. He tried to keep one eye on the strange little scanner that Dr. Sheppard had dubbed a _gameboy_ and one eye on the twisting corridors before him, wary of the tall, pale guards whose shadows occasionally darkened the moist walls.

_If I do not return in twenty minutes, detonate the explosives and return to Atlantis,_ he had told Bates. _Do not allow Dr. Sheppard to argue with you on that point._

What about you, sir?

I will return with the colonel.

Sir  
  
A hasty decision, rash and reckless and inexplicably right. _I am more expendable than you, Lieutenant. Wait for my signal._

The gameboy flickered, showing another Wraith approaching, and Radek backed down a narrow corridor to his left to stay out of its sight. As he moved, another little dot lit up at the edge of the screen, behind him and moving forwarddear God, was he boxed in? He spun and raised the P-90 that was still too clumsy in his hands

and was knocked to the floor by a powerful kick. He managed to roll with the blow, feeling the rifle fly loose, and tucked his head in time to feel something skim overhead. Something else, like a stout rod, fell hard across the breadth of his shoulders, and even through jacket and vest the pain shocked him still for a moment. He landed on his face, hard, but his hand managed to find his sidearm and he threw himself over on his back to aim at the Wraith.

Or not a Wraith, he saw, over the barrel of the pistol. At least he didn't think it was a Wraith, because all of them so far had been tall and gaunt and pale and vaguely slimey, just like the walls. This personwoman?was thin, but petite, and had dusky skin like coffee with milk. She was also holding two stout metal rods, perhaps eighteen inches long, each with a ragged strip of cloth wrapped around one end to serve as a handle, and she was frowning.

"You are not Wraith," she said.

"Neither are you," Radek said. "Where does that leave us?"

The woman lowered the rods and dropped into a crouch. Her hair was strangely light for her complexionor maybe Radek shouldn't make assumptions about women born on other planetsand cropped short and severe around her face. "How did you escape them?" she asked, dark eyes scanning him and his equipment.

"I wasn't taken," he said. "I'm here to rescue"

A scream tore through the air, distant and shrill. Radek might've thought it somewhat romantic to say he recognized the colonel's voice in that agonizing sound, but then again, it wasn't as if any other parts of this adventure were at all rational. He snatched up his rifle and the gameboy and leapt to his feet, trying to get a bearing on the origin of the sound.

The woman stepped in front of him, not quite blocking his path. "I will help you," she said, "if you help me."

"With what?" Radek asked. "Why?"

"Because you are probably mad," she said. "But I wish to leave with you."

It was hasty, rash and reckless, so experience suggested it was probably right. "Of course," Radek said. "My name is Radek Zelenka."

The woman looked him over again, face placid. "I am Teyla," she said. "Just Teyla."

"Do you know where the Wraith would interrogate a captive, Teyla?"

She went forth, sleek and soundless as a shadow. Radek, weapon ready, followed.

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

"Raise the shield!" Radek barked into the radio as the gateship shot through the gate. Meters away, he could see Weir and Rod and Tagan on the control balcony, crouched low and staring. Sheppard bore down hard on the controls, and the little ship dragged to a halt with a little lurchthe most inertia Radek had felt during the entire battle. Releasing one of the joysticks, Sheppard exhaled and slumped in his seat, scrubbing at his glasses.

When they had not been shot at or crashed into any further, Radek dared to twist in his seat and look backwards. A jumble of Marines and Athosians were crowed into the rear compartment, several clustered around Teyla, who seemed to have stopped whatever hysterical fit she had experienced as they fled the Wraith planet. She pushed herself upright and breathed deeply, several times, before shrugging off the hands that clung to her arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Atlantis," Sheppard said, high and sounding slightly hysterical. "Please remain seated till the puddle jumper has come to a full and complete stop." Radek looked at him sharply, and the scientist gave him only a giggle and a too-pale smile before guide the gateship upward into its hangar.

Radek ignored the joke and made his way to Teyla's side. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I am free of the Wraith, Radek Zelenka."

"Back on the planet"

"It is a long explanation," she said, and turned away from him. The gateship bumped gently into its berth, or dock, or whatever one could call such a thing. The rear hatch fell open, and Radek pushed past the men_his _mento meet Dr. Weir as she jogged into the room.

"Major," she called, "what happened back there?"

"The mission did not achieve all its objectives," he said, and dropped Sumner's dog tags into her hand.

She looked at them, and him, with a shocked sadness, but the moment was interrupted when Tagan suddenly shrieked. Radek spun, almost drawing his weapon, before he realized that Teyla was frozen at the bottom of the gateship's ramp, staring at Tagan with wide, baffled eyes.

"Father?" she blurted.

The next moment they were locked in a fierce embrace, Tagan openly weeping, and it took the last shreds of Radek's patience to understand what he was seeing. "Well," Rod said, coming up beside him. "Well, at least something good seems to have come of all this...ah, Major, who is that?"

"I will explain," he said, and made himself turn back to Dr. Weir. "I have much to explain."

She nodded, still fingering the dog tags. "Of course, Major. We can talk on the way to see Carson."

-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-

It was a lively party, Radek had to give it that. Perhaps two hundred people were crowded onto the balcony, sharing food and drink and animated conversation. He spotted Dr. Sheppard, now sufficiently recovered from the mission to harass two green-shirted technicians, and Rod, who was chatting cheerfully with Beckett and Ford. Tagan was standing with Jinto and Halling, and Teyla was off by herself a little ways, staring into the sea.

Bates approached him from inside. "We've set a perimeter, sir," he said, "and there's enough room for everyone to sleep, though it won't be comfortable. I also told Dr. Sheppard we'd take away his spaceship privileges if he tried to sneak out on us again."

"An empty threat, Lieutenant, but thank you," Radek said. "Is there a duty roster already in place?"

"Colonel Sumner was leaving that until we had fully assessed the situation." Bates paused for a moment. "I can set up a temporary rotation for the time being, sir."

"I will handle it, though I would appreciate your input." Radek looked at Bates, waiting for a sign of protest or even anger; none came. "What is the situation, Lieutenant, in your assessment?"

He glanced out onto the water for a moment, then back at the party; Rod was now rescuing Sheppard from a pair of Marines, and Teyla and Tagan were talking quietly. "We've got a pack of strangers in the base that we don't know anything about, including one who's got some kind of freaky mind-meld with the Wraith. This place is way too big to ever secure properly and there's already geeks trying to push us around."

"And your commanding officer is dead," Radek added.

Bates met his eyes with a lift of the chin. "My commanding officer is right here, sir."

"Are you sure the men feel the same way?"

"They'll follow my lead."

Radek wondered if Lieutenants Miller and Crown would see it the same way, if Marines would truly be so easy to control. He supposed he would get the opportunity to find out. "Enjoy the party, Lieutenant. I think I will inspect the perimeter."

He didn't get more than a few steps towards the doors, though, before Dr. Weir intercepted him with a mug of champagne. "Major," she said. "Complements of General O'Neill."

_"Nazdraví,"_ Radek said, and sipped. It was really quite good champagne, deserving better than an aluminum mug.

Weir seemed to pick up on his mood. "You did good, Major."

"It was not a total loss."

"There was no way you could've saved Colonel Sumner."

"Perhaps, perhaps not." He looked her in the eye. "I believe he was right about me, you know."

"In what way?"

"I do not truly belong here." He raised a hand before she could try to correct him. "Be honest, Doctor. Given the choice, you did not bring me here to command your military. I could write volumes about how unsuited I am to this post. And yetthere is no choice, is there? The Wraith are coming."

"The Wraith are coming," she repeated. "And we're going to meet them as best we can. But MajorRadekregardless of Colonel Sumner's doubts, I picked you for this expedition. Maybe not to do this job, but that doesn't mean I don't have every confidence in your ability to lead. And while the colonel may not have appreciated having to bring you, he certainly wouldn't have let me choose you if he didn't see something of value in you as well."

He forced a smile, trying not to think of brains splattering across a damp, fleshy wall. "With all due respect, Dr. Weir, I was under the impression that Rod chose me for the expedition."

They both glanced at where Rod was now talking to Tagan, Teyla having disappeared for the moment. Tagan had been so ecstatic at the return of his lost daughter that he'd practically tried to adopt Radek into the tribe, or something of that nature; Rod had not just averted the potential intercultural incident, he'd managed to come out on the little Athosian's good side. If they weren't dear friends already they were at least much warmer than the day previous. Dr. Weir smiled at Radek. "He does give that impression, doesn't he? Rod's a persuasive man, Major, but I can assure you he doesn't make my decisions for me. Not even when he wants to."

"I'll be certain to thwart any devious plots on his part, then," Radek said.

"I appreciate that." Weir set her mug of champagne on the balcony railing and leaned against it, and for a moment, they stood silent together watching the fall from the alien sun. For a moment, Radek pushed guilt and responsibility out of his mind. For just a moment, he breathed in the subtle salt of the breeze. The sea was calm and flecked with light as far as the eye could see.

"I suppose," he said, more to himself than Weir, "it would be prudent if I learned to swim."


End file.
